


Boundaries

by cluelesspaladin



Series: We Built This Ship to Wreck [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Assassin Lance, Grey Lotor, Lance might seem a little stalkery at first but he has his reasons, Lance pushes all the boundaries, M/M, canon-divergent AU, getting together?, he's a little shit what can I say, ish, kinda sorta, lance's backstory, like making sure no one's going to stab him, makeout scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22891270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cluelesspaladin/pseuds/cluelesspaladin
Summary: Lotor had propositioned him with a contract that was hard to resist. Serve as his personal assassin and there would be no place barred to him. Nowhere he wouldn’t be able to go. So long as he did not harm the prince, Lotor would hand him a target, provide him with the necessary tools, and leave him be.It was an ideal exchange.But Lance wasn’t so foolish as to take the princeling at his word. He had been beaten and turned on before- he wasn’t about to fall for something so simple.
Relationships: Lance/Lotor
Series: We Built This Ship to Wreck [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642273
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	Boundaries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abscission](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abscission/gifts).



It’s no secret that the Blue Shrike is Lotor’s elite of the elite.

At times, some of the looser lipped of his forces theorize that the assassin ranks equal to his group of generals- hybrids such as their prince, hand picked from all backgrounds and loyal to no one but their prince. Some further still wonder if the assassin is further still higher- the prince’s second in command, his second shadow. One that you would never see coming and wouldn’t even know who ended you.

Few know where the slender figure who haunts Lotor’s ships hails from. Of course, there are rumors. Theories. But none are brave enough to approach the silent creature who wastes no words and spares no one a second glance behind the blue mask that shields his face.

Stars, they don’t even know if the Shrike is male. From Lotor’s previous inclinations, it could just as easily be a female from an unknown species.

But the mystery remains, and the Shrike himself is deeply amused by the rumors. He won’t bother to correct them. He thrives on the mysterious shroud surrounding his origins, his place in Lotor’s ranks. He owes no one his loyalties save one; even then, on occasion, he’ll push his boundaries. Idle curiosity. Boredom. Simply because he could.

Lotor has begun to grow accustomed to his presence shadowing him, but still has a way to go in realizing when he’s fallen into step or appeared in a room. His training in such things has served him well. Ironically, perhaps, considering his original target would likely have been the prince had he not been the one to pluck him from the camp that he had been thrown into as a child.

The Galra had begun raiding other planets- only taking one or two younglings from each world to unite as a single unit. Assassins and mercenaries, every one of them.

Lance had taken to the harsh training like a duck to water following the breaking in process that they all had survived. Only the strongest of them rose into the ranks; of the few hundred that had been in Lance’s unit, only a handful had survived to adulthood. It was the stark reality of his life.

The one thing they had never taken from him, curiously, was his freelance ideals. Oh, he loathed the training- had killed several of the Galra who had pushed him one step too far and suffered the consequences- but it had also raised his status further and further over the years. He fell into a neutral zone, one in which the only person he served was himself.

Until Lotor had arrived.

Lance had heard of the prince, heard the rumors of an order being sent to the unit to terminate the exiled prince at any cost. For a split second, his rifle had been levelled with the hybrid’s face, his hands as steady as they would ever be. Considered pulling the trigger before cocking his head and weighing his options. What was the worst that could happen, following the prince?

Lotor had propositioned him with a contract that was hard to resist. Serve as his personal assassin and there would be no place barred to him. Nowhere he wouldn’t be able to go. So long as he did not harm the prince, Lotor would hand him a target, provide him with the necessary tools, and leave him be.

It was an ideal exchange.

But Lance wasn’t so foolish as to take the princeling at his word. He had been beaten and turned on before- he wasn’t about to fall for something so simple. It was part of his reasons for following the prince whenever he returned from a mission. Learning his patterns, watching the way he interacted with his subordinates.

The generals weren’t terribly fond of him, Axca in particular. The leader of the female unit, she was by far the most paranoid, always making a point of sticking close to Lotor’s side whenever she was able.

Wise woman.

Today, however, Lance was fortunate enough to catch Lotor alone. His generals had been sent on some exploratory-diplomatic mission to a nearby star system, which meant that the Blue Shrike had all the time in the world to further gauge his new leader.

After a month, one would expect to be used to his presence randomly appearing in places he shouldn’t. Lotor, it seemed, was not.

Lance stepped out of a hall with a soft scuff of his heel- a very intentional move to see what the prince’s reaction would be. Disappointingly, Lotor did nothing save blink and flick his gaze in the smaller male’s direction, his stride not even faltering as he kept walking. A faint smirk on his features behind his mask, Lance fell into step with the prince. Might as well push what boundaries he knew were in place and go from there, no?

“Shrike.” Lotor greeted evenly, hands clasped behind his back in typical Galra officer fashion. Admittedly, the prince made the position much more elegant than the Galra he had been serving back on his backwater training planet. “You’re back earlier than I anticipated.”

His voice was a pleasant tenor, accented tone a clear giveaway as to his heritage. On instinct alone, the hair on the back of Lance’s neck prickled every time he was addressed.

“You chose me because I was the best.” He returns neutrally, the gravelly voice modifier concealing his thoughts. “The target was terminated.”

“Yes, I just received confirmation. One thousand fiqs away. An impressive shot.”

“I am the best.” Lance states. It isn’t a boast- merely stating a fact.

He had not been trained to fail. Nor had he been trained to show much emotion, either. It didn’t stop him from screwing around with some of the more gullible of the ranks while he was in a mood. His temperament changed like the tide; it added a certain air of tension whenever he allowed someone to catch a glimpse of him in the halls of the ships.

“Hn.” Lotor agrees, appraising his second shadow for a moment. “Indeed, it would appear that way.”

A rash impulse takes Lance over before he can help himself, twisting to pin Lotor against the wall easily. Despite his smaller frame, he’s been trained for years how to outmaneuver opponents three times his size; it takes little effort to cage Lotor in. And perhaps the princeling allows it, to an extent.

Lance has enough height to wrap a hand around Lotor’s throat, cocking his head to one side at the brief flicker of something that passes before he can examine it thoroughly.

“Do not underestimate me, prince.” He warns.

“You think I do?” Lotor asks, one sculpted brow arching. “You are an outlier. Someone I do not know nor trust. I may have offered you a place amongst my ranks, but I do not underestimate you, and I do _not_ trust your motives.”

Lance felt the tips of Lotor’s claws rest against his side, light pressure the only indication of the possibility of getting an injury he wouldn’t be walking away from easily. But aside from the small motion, the prince makes no other move to remove himself from Lance’s grip nor further advance his claws into Lance’s flesh.

“I await my next assignment.” He says instead, stepping back, hand drifting over the thin blades strapped to his thigh.

-

It isn’t until later that Lance puzzles out the brief flicker of emotion that had crossed Lotor’s face. The fact that the mask he wears as the Blue Shrike is capable of taking short-term video assists the assassin in analyzing his current master.

Replaying the video over several times over, he watches as Lotor’s brows furrow and his pupils dilate. Not out of fear, it would seem, but some other source.

Arousal.

Intriguing.

It’s then that the man makes it his personal mission to test every boundary he can with the prince, if only to see if the results remain the same.

What kind of assassin would he be otherwise?

And so he begins his own personal assignment. While not out on his targeted missions on Lotor’s behalf, Lance begins hunting Lotor like prey. Every step is carefully catalogued with locations and those he interacts with, mapping out a schedule of sorts that Lotor likely isn’t even aware he’s creating. Every blind spot in the hallways, every guard, sentry or soldier.

Lance’s first mission as an escort to Lotor in a tiny shuttle, the assassin sat just a tad too close for comfort, sharpening his blades with nonchalance. Every move made on Lotor’s behalf documented and filed for analysis. Sure enough, upon replay, the prince undoubtedly has some measure of attraction toward him.

The only question is how to get him to crack.

-

As it would turn out, Lance doesn’t have to do much to get under Lotor’s skin. A flash of touch here, a few close encounters with touches that bordered on dangerous should they be caught out, and Lotor began growling if Lance got too close.

Which was all the time, as his self-assigned mission continued on.

It came to a head several months into it- honestly, Lance was impressed that Lotor had lasted so long against him when all he had been doing was disobeying orders when it suited him, invading his personal space at every turn, and overall being a general nuisance. At some point, Lance could admit that his motivations had shifted more from “test out Lotor’s patience” into “see how far he could lure the prince before his attraction toward the assassin finally made him do something about it”.

Lance isn’t a fool- he knows that his body appeals to many. What he didn’t count on was for the underdog of a prince to be reeled in so easily.

He waits until Lotor is alone; not terribly difficult, now that he’s been following him around for so long. And really, how is it that the man hasn’t been killed yet with how often he manages to be alone?

He slams into Lotor with the power of a comet, knee between the taller male’s thighs as he retracts his mask- only the second time since being dragged off of that miserable backwater retraining facility. It’s likely the only thing that would prevent getting run through with the retractable energy blade Lotor keeps on his person at all times, too.

“Prince.” He purrs, lidding his eyes as he gazes up into Lotor’s startled gaze.

“Shrike.” Lotor greets, tone taut. Despite the brisk word, his eyes are already dark, pupils dilating as he takes in the admittedly attractive features and eyes that had earned him his moniker. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Lance chuckles throatily, body languid as he rolls his weight against Lotor’s front. He feels a twitch of interest under the pressure of his knee- it’s the perfect sign he’s hooked the male, line and sinker.

“Funny you should mention it.” Lance says, lips quirking. I should be asking the same thing. I see the way you look at me.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lotor says primly. His body language suggests otherwise, though whether or not he’s aware of it remains to be seen.

“Mm.” Lance hums. “Well, in that case, allow me to make a proposition.”

His hand moves from curling around the prince’s neck to cupping it, jerking him down into a forceful kiss. Lotor stiffens for several long moments, beginning to pull away before seemingly deciding differently.

The change is immediate- Lance allows himself to be handled so their positions are reversed; the prince cages him in in a way that makes him tingle delightfully, teeth nipping at his lower lip as he moves in for another kiss. It’s feral, a catlike tongue carefully exploring Lance’s mouth as he allows himself this brief moment of pleasure, both of them giving into their own chemical responses.

But of course, the brief session of passion can’t last forever- Lance easily slips out of Lotor’s grip like a fish through hands, his mask firmly in place to hide the flush of his cheeks and full lips. His expression is one of complete mischievous victory as he leans into Lotor’s personal space.

“If ever you decide to relax, come find me.” Lance purrs, velvet and danger rolled into one. “You and I could offer a… mutual exchange.”

His piece said, the assassin saunters off down the hall, fully intent on finding a quiet space to take care of his own bodily needs while trying to get the image of Lotor’s blissed out expression from his mind.


End file.
